


Scars from Yesterday

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Nice Work, Dr Stiles - DerAng [6]
Category: Caduceus | Trauma Center Series
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Themes, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Short & Sweet, Trans Derek, Trans Male Character, implied/referenced misgendering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22606696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: Some wounds never truly close up and it just so happens most of them aren't physical. Sometimes, the littlest things can open these back up.A good thing some people are here to patch these wounds up.
Relationships: Derek Stiles/Angela "Angie" Thompson
Series: Nice Work, Dr Stiles - DerAng [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617643
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Scars from Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> We stan a supportive Angie, even if that makes her OOC by canon's standards. Fucc canon sometimes.  
> I wrote this as a way to unwind after finishing a chapter of Earth Never Stops and felt in a very TC mood, so I decided to further the Transerek Agenda (tm). This is nothing big or important and it's cheesy but y'know that? fuck it. My town, my rules.  
> I think I accidentally got attached to some random headcanon I came up with for one (1) prompt fill. Oops.  
> This story also slightly references a previous one I've written, "Like Honey in a Cup of Acid", but I don't think you need to read that one to understand this piece. Pretty handy, isn't it?

The distortion on his face is so obvious Angie immediately notices it, even if she’s barely over his shoulder while he stares in disbelief at his phone screen. To be frank, there’s such a revolting feeling setting in his stomach at the moment that it wouldn’t be hard to notice how badly he’s taking what he’s seeing. But, like a train wreck, despite his disgust, he can’t look away from it until his finger closes the app on his phone on their own.

“Derek, is everything okay?” She then asks, prompting him to put away his phone and face her.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. “Just saw something unpleasant.”

Angie looks around, noticing the staff room is empty at the moment. It’s not surprising, considering it’s three in the morning. She grabs his arm and gently pulls away on it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t really want to say anything what he’s just seen, but he also needs something to rinse the bitter and sour aftertaste that won’t leave his mouth. Plus, it’s not like his therapist recommends bottling everything up, especially on that topic.

“I’ll take the offer. Thanks, Angie.”

She smiles as she slowly walks him to the sofa.

“You’re welcome. I’m always glad to help.”

They sit down on it, only a few centimetres separating them. He stares at the floor, still trying to wash his eyeballs and cleanse his stomach. Alas, it’s all in vain: the feeling doesn’t seem to agree on leaving the premise anytime soon.

It’s not even like he should still be this deeply affected by that goddamn picture. It’s old and he doesn’t even remember it being ever taken. It’s so old, in fact, he lacks any precise memory of that time of his life, just vague shards of words and feelings blurring into a mix of fiction and recreation done by a slightly confused brain which doesn’t know if it should burn that past to the ground or instead treasure it inside a little box.

A comforting hand lands on his thigh, breaking him away from that short burst of thought.

“So, what is this thing that’s been bothering you? It seems really unpleasant, considering your face’s all twisted.”

“It’s… It’s just a silly photo. You’re gonna find it super silly too if I tell you…”

“There’s no judgement here, Derek. You can tell me about it, it’s fine. I’ve told you I’d help you as both your assistant and your friend, right?”

“Of course, but really, it’s so ridiculous…”

“I’m sure it’s nothing of the sort.”

He sighs again. His therapist has also told him multiple times to stop belittling his thoughts and throwing so much judgement onto himself for things he cannot control, so he better listen to these lessons and learn them now.

“I have relatives who don’t know about it yet.”

“About ‘that’?”

“Yeah. They’re people I haven’t seen in a decade so they’re unaware of everything. I’ve never told them because I’ve never had to. My mom never forced me to anyway…”

“So they still call you by the wrong name and things like that?”

“Exactly.”

Angie gives him a tender look. She most likely doesn’t know what that feels like, or even what words to put onto that phenomenon. How can he blame her? He’s glad she doesn’t know what it’s like, actually. He’s relieved she’s never had to suffer through that in her life.

“I’m sorry to hear that… They know you’re a surgeon, at least, right?”

“Yeah, my mother must have told them at some point. Some of them at least call me Doctor, even if they’ve got no idea.”

“Is there a reason why you’ve never told them?”

“I just never felt the need to. It’s the sort of things you hate telling people because you never know how they’ll react.”

“It must be a terrifying thing to do…”

“…but I’m starting to regret my decision not to tell them, I think.”

Surprise washes over her face. Her other hand is now on his shoulder, loose hair brushing against the skin of his forearms. He left the lab coat in his office before going to grab a coffee; but that was also before the picture fiasco.

“Why so?”

Isn’t he annoying her with all of his ramblings? Well, at least, it does feel therapeutic, so it’s not like he minds. Her questions help him clear his mind and make his own thoughts easier to understand and digest.

“I often get messages from distant relatives or old high school friends that tell me they find it amusing that there’s such a famous Dr Stiles that’s often on TV or talked about. None of them actually suspects him and me to actually be the same person. It’s weird, I feel like an imposter when I read that kind of messages.”

“Now that’s quite the situation… You want them to recognize you as this man even if they think you’re… not one yourself?”

Her voice crackles on the last words. She clearly still struggles with some of the topics, or at least how to put them into words. He can she’s trying, though. She’s done her research behind his back for sure.

“Maybe? I’m kind of confused. I usually don’t think a lot about it anyway. It’s just that I got a message that reminded me of all these buries feelings earlier. I didn’t see it until a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, it’s because of the thing on your phone that bothered you, then?”

“Exactly.”

The grip on both his shoulder and thigh strengthens.

“What was it, then? Again, if you don’t mind me asking…”

He sighs. Lighten your chest, Derek, you won’t sleep tonight if it’s still weighing on your consciousness like that… You don’t want the nausea and the elevated pulse to wake up in the middle of your precious resting time, right?

“My aunt sent me a picture from when I was a kid.”

“I see…”

“You’re gonna find it silly, of course, but I hate that picture and the caption with it. I don’t think I have the strength to describe it, let me show you.”

He puts his phone out again and, trying to pry his eyes away from the photo at fault, he opens the message back up and puts his cell in her right hand.

He’s felt that wave of nervousness, of anxiety before. It’s the stress that piles up on you when you need to show someone something that could change their perception of you, or your life as a whole sometimes. If he’s told Angie with words what he truly is, he made his mother read a text he’d written on a piece of paper at school when the class was the white noise background to the cacophony of his mental, sentimental turmoil.

Still, he does manage to look at her as she looks at the screen. Her delicate fingers handle his phone with precaution. Her expression goes from endeared (most certainly by the picture itself, where his child self was smiling for the camera dressed in a lab coat too big for such a tiny body), to shocked, to finally distorting in distress.

He’s just realized he’s forgotten that the message also mentioned the one information he didn’t want to give her for any reason. It was his most secretive part, the one piece from his past he’d have done so much to erase from this plane of reality.

That’s… absolutely _awful_.

After a heavy silence, Angie gives his phone back, looking away.

“Sorry, I read the caption…”

“You couldn’t have known. Please just… never use that name.”

“Why would I do that? I’ll make sure to forget about it as soon as possible and never come across it ever again. I shouldn’t be this curious anyway…”

“It’s okay. In fact, I’m thankful you’ve asked me. It’s incredibly relaxing once everything’s off your chest.”

“I’m sure it is. I’m glad I could be of help!”

Her face suddenly lights up.

“Oh, by the way! Can I ask you how you picked your name?”

He chuckles. Her enthusiastic curiosity isn’t typical of a 3AM shift.

“I haven’t been asked that in such a long time, I forgot how I used to explain that!”

“Oh, really? How long?”

“Since my therapist asked me about it, I think… Either her or when Tyler asked me about it, and that was back in med school. I didn’t exactly get to reveal that to anyone else since then, at least, that was until I told you…”

Angie fiddles with her fingers. She clearly doesn’t like to be reminded of it and, frankly, so does he aside from one little thing. His only pride in what unfolded that day is the fact he was somehow able to actually put into spoken words what used to terrify him to express so much he had to write it down and make people read a text instead. It was a personal victory and, well, he’s allowed to be proud of that, right? It’s rare that he finds euphoria where a land barren of joy once stood.

He clears his throat, the story forming back inside his mind.

“Anyway. I picked that name when I was in high school. At the time, I didn’t really know what to pick for myself, so… You know these baby name sites? I used to always be on them unless my mother entered my room. In the end, I ended up not finding anything I really liked on there. It’s hard to name yourself when you’ve been called something else your entire life.”

A smile draws itself on his face as the memories come back, one by one. It’s a strange rush of nostalgia for something that was so painful.

“One day, I stumbled upon my father’s old comic books. My mother never had the heart to throw them away, so we just kept them in big boxes in a storage room. In one of them was a doctor character named Derek and, from then on… I just identified with him. Actually, I wanted to be like him and save people through medicine. He was way more muscular than I was, though.”

He must look ridiculous to someone more grounded than Angie, and yet he hears her softly laugh.

“You say that as if you weren’t already a superhero of your own, Derek.”

In one remark, she’s set fire to his face.

“Huh…?!”

“Not only have you saved the world from GUILT, but you’ve also overcome all of this. At least, to me, that’s a heroic act. You went against everyone and everything else for that, in a way.” She glances back at him. “If that isn’t worth admiring, then what is?”

“Hah… I don’t know what to respond…” He scratches the back of his head with a laugh in his throat. “Thanks a lot, Angie.”

“I’m trying my best. I still don’t understand everything and, no matter how many times I try, I can’t quite put myself in your shoes… So, if I ever mess up, tell me, okay?”

“I will. If it reassures you, I don’t have anything to write on a report about you yet.”

It’s her turn to sigh in relief.

“I’d even add you’ve been my best supporter on that front so far.”

Both of their faces turn red as their eyes dart away from each other’s. How did he manage to squeeze that one out of his chest? That was oddly smooth coming from your clumsy mouth, Stiles. Must be the power of the late shift soon coming to a close.

“To our tandem, then,” Angie says as she lies back into the sofa.

“To our tandem.”

Telling the rest of his family doesn’t seem to be quite the bad idea if he’s got people by his side. It can’t bring him more pain than it’s had until now, can it? Perhaps he should tell Angie about it.

Why a “perhaps”? Of course he’ll tell her about it before he takes a decision. Silly him.


End file.
